


slow disco

by hysteries



Series: kerosene (tim stoker appreciation week) [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Vibing in the Archives, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysteries/pseuds/hysteries
Summary: "Nonsense," Jon muttered with a frown, "It’s just the grief of an old man." Before Tim could get a ribbing in, Martin interrupted. "I like this one, actually. Maybe they were soulmates." And it all devolved from there.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: kerosene (tim stoker appreciation week) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730320
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64
Collections: Tim Stoker Appreciation Week





	slow disco

“So, what’d you reckon?” Sasha’s still digging around in the file like she’ll suddenly find the missing photograph; she doesn’t even slow down. That’s alright. His voice booms loud enough that he’s sure she hears it. “Soulmates, yeah?”

That gets her attention. She peers up at him and takes a pause to push her glasses up. It manages to make her look like a disgruntled teacher – and of course, painfully cute. “Oh, not this again.”

“Come on, Sash. I know you’re a true believer.” He wiggles his fingers in her direction. “Team Martin, right?”

It all started with a statement (doesn’t everything, these days?) shoved firmly by Jon into the no-pile. As in, no-recording, no-talking-it-through, no-believability, no-adventure. Sasha plucked it right out of the pile and brought it into the breakroom, the way she always does on slow days. _Fodder for conversation_ , she told him once, but Tim’s pretty sure it’s a way to avoid making in-jokes that might exclude Martin. Unfortunate side effect of being the new kid. Point is: Sasha knew exactly what she was doing, asking questions about it while Jon ate his soup and Martin stared over from the kettle. She knew that’d it cause a debate that’d go into the afternoon, and end with Martin’s cheeks pink and Jon rambling. Tim could read it in the angle of her smirk – and of course he went along with it.

An old man in his eighties, insistent that he saw his late wife’s figure wherever he went, came into the Institute to tell his story. She was everywhere he looked, he said. When he slept, he dreamt of her swaddled in black smoke. Even before everything, before they’d even met, he used to see her in the sheen of store fronts and the reflection of puddles, out of windows and behind doors. _Nonsense_ , Jon muttered with a frown, _it’s just the grief of an old man_. Before Tim could get a ribbing in, Martin interrupted. _I like this one, actually. Maybe they were soulmates_. And it all devolved from there.

As it turned out, Martin was a proponent of the notion of a soulmate. One perfect person out there for everyone, human beings carved in half and fitted back together, all that shit that Tim had learned about in his classical literature class back at Trinity. Jon, on the other hand, found the whole thing “unscientific” and “beyond the realm of belief.” Which meant that Tim, naturally, had to take up Martin’s case. It was only fair – to leave Martin alone in the warpath of an indignant Jon was just _cruel_. And also, it was fucking hilarious to watch Jon’s eyes bug out of his head when Tim suggested an assistants’ mutiny.

Sasha was about as helpful as she wanted to be, which is to say not very. She mostly played defence, with an odd insistence on recording the statement. Which Martin echoed, and then Tim, just for kicks. Which brought them here – Jon grumbled out a _maybe_ , but only if they could find a legitimate reason. Sasha volunteered, and all but dragged Tim to the archives with her, leaving Martin and Jon to themselves and soulmate theory. It’s been two hours of case discussion and study, and Tim’s totally over it.

“Team _this is what we’re here to study_.” He likes the way her voice raises and how her shoulders lift when she’s frustrated.

“Right. But Jon doesn’t even think this one is worth looking into.”

She shrugs, her posture slackening. “I think it’s all worth studying.”

“Suuuure.” He raises his eyebrows, elongating the word. Mission achieved: she drops the frown and Tim can see the corners of her mouth fighting to keep back a smile.

“What? You’re really team soulmate?”

“Hundred percent.” He places his hand to his heart, his own hunt for the picture of the long-dead-wife abandoned. “You know, they say you’ll feel a tug when you meet yours.”

The corners deepen. She’s close. “Who’s they, exactly?”

“You know, them.” With his free hand, he gestures vaguely above him. “Scholars. Philosophers. Those blokes. It’s actually a very scientific theory; I’m surprised you’re not a believer.”

Wrong move. Never challenge Sasha James – she’ll dig her heels in as deep as she can. “I’m not _not a believer_.”

“You sound like very much of a non-believer. De-believer? Unbeliever?”

She shakes her head. “I’m just not a one-soulmate type of gal. Martin – he’s a romantic.” Tim nods and makes a small sound of agreement. “His theory is based on the Greeks, and poetry, and how he’d like things to be. Which is all admirable and lovely, but I think…” She pauses, and he’s reminded of the conversation of weeks ago. Her insistence that there is no _real you_. “If we’re talking pure science and logic, I think there’s loads of soulmates out there for everyone.”

Tim can’t help himself. He laughs, mouth stretched into a grin. “Now that’s a theory I can get behind.”

Finally, there’s a giggle, and Sasha’s lost some of those deep-thinker lines between her eyes. “I thought you’d like that. But what I mean is that – I think we have some control over who our soulmate is. It’s not all pre-destined.”

To be honest, he’s not given the concept much thought. Soulmates, fate, destiny. He’s not sure he believes in any of it. It can’t have been fate that landed him in these dusty old archives, or destiny that happened to Danny. And the whole notion of soulmates is founded on the premise of fate and destiny, and Tim won’t believe in one if it means believing in the others. If it means that his brother was _meant_ to die like that. He’s quiet for a long moment, considering it.

“Tim?”

As it does so often, her voice pulls him out of his head and back into the moment. Her head’s cocked to the side, ponytail spilling over one shoulder. It’s not like how she was looking at the statement earlier, all quizzical and confused. She’s got a frown on that means something else. Tim hopes it’s concern.

“Sorry.” He flashes her a quick grin. “Still thinking about those loads of soulmates for me. How many d’you reckon is the right amount?”

She raises her eyebrows, and he takes that as a sign that she knows he’s lying but won’t press him any further. “Hard to say.”

“I’m thinking a nice 69. Symmetry, yeah?”

Sasha’s laughing again. “Like you could handle that many. You’re a terrible multitasker!”

He eases right back into the conversation they were having before, like it’s nothing (like Danny’s name isn’t still burning on the back of his throat). “Am not! I’m a pro!”

“Tim, you didn’t come back to the Institute last Tuesday because your ‘digging around’ ended in a coffee date.”

“That was intentional! I needed his honest testimony.”

“You always forget when it’s your turn to fix up the break room!”

“That’s got nothing to do with multi-tasking, Sash.” He twists his grin into a smirk. “I just hate cleaning up after you lot.”

“Oh, and Martin and I love it.” He looks at Sasha expectantly. She realizes her mistake and blows out a breath. “Alright, well, at least I _don’t_ love it.”

“You’re pretty cute when you’re nagging, you know.” He’s not even trying to distract her. It’s true. Her eyes start to sparkle and she stands tall, arms crossed and mouth pursed. All this talk of soulmates and romantics has got to him.

“Ti-im,” she warns in that sing song voice.

“Sa-sha,” he parrots back. Before he can think twice about it, his arm shoots out and he’s grabbing her by the hand. He tugs her gently towards him, going wide to avoid her hitting the desk. She stumbles and stops short of falling into his chest.

“This is no way to win a debate.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Debating?”

“Close enough.” Her grimace wrinkles her nose, and even that’s cute. She’s looking up at him now, and he’s looking down at her. If they stayed like this, he’s sure he could count every freckle dotting her nose.

“That was a tug, by the way.”

The frown grows. “What?”

“Tug.” He squeezes lightly on her hand. “Like those old stodges say.”

For what feels like an hour, she just looks at him. It’s the strangest feeling, but one that he knows well. Anticipation, skin raising on his arms and stomach falling. He’s always loved it. “Tim.” There’s no song in this one; no worry either. Just the lightest touch of Sasha’s voice saying his name. He likes it – likes every way she says it, but especially now.

Just then, he hears Jon’s voice out in the hallway. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but we’re an institute for the paranormal, not fairytales —”. Martin’s reply is high and plaintive. “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me!”

Tim does what all the stories say never to do. He looks away. He turns from Sasha and towards the sound. The voices go quiet as they step into Jon’s office, and Tim smiles to himself when the door shuts with the two of them inside.

Her hand leaves his, and when he turns back, she’s taken a step away. Moment, ruined. Mood, gone. Good work, Stoker. But he’s not a quitter, and maybe this could be salvaged. “Looks like your plan worked then.”

There’s the raised eyebrows again, but she hasn’t gone back to the file and so he takes that as a good sign. “What?”

“Oh come on. You can fool them, but you can’t fool me.” He waggles his eyebrows at her again. “You got Jon to talk to Martin.”

Remarkably, her face shifts into a beaming smile of the likes he’s only seen when Jon or Elias compliments her work. She’s proud, he realizes, and something else too. Flattered, maybe? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please. He’s been all surly and ignoring Martin since the Tube fiasco last week. And then you ‘randomly’ select the most romantic statement in the archives-and-maybe-the-world for a closer look?”

He’s got her. They both know it. “I really just thought it merited a little group discussion..”

“Right. And that’s why they fell into a two-hour long debate by themselves.”

“They’re passionate people, Tim.”

“Oh my god.” He laughs. “You terrify me, Sasha James.”

“Good.” She sticks her tongue out. “That’s how I like it.”

Tim doesn’t know what to say to that. Just scoffs, something warm burning in his chest. He sticks to incredulity – it’s much safer than sentimentality. “I can’t believe you got them alone in Jon’s office.”

Sasha’s eyebrows raise again. They’ve got an entire language of their own, and he’s realizing he’s keen to learn it. “Got you alone too.”

Christ. He doesn’t know what to say to that either. He settles on making a show of looking around the room, focusing on the corners and cabinets. “So you did.” He looks back at her and opens his arms. “Feel free to have your wicked way with me.”

For a second, he wonders if she’s actually considering it. Then, she laughs, and he starts chuckling too. Course not. “We’re still on the clock, mate. Save it for Wetherspoons.”

“Hell no. You owe me for the extra work. Morpeth Arms or bust.”

She shakes her head, but it’s an easy sell. “Fine. But let’s give them another half hour before breaking it up.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Half an hour. We need to find that photograph – I’m not going to file an incomplete folder.”

“ _Fine_.” He stretches out the word with a sigh. Sasha reaches forward and takes his hand again, yanking him back to work. “What’s that? I think I felt a tug.”

Her grin is bright and toothy. There’s that warmth again, travelling up to his face. “Come on, you romantic. There’s work to be done.”

“Yes, my darling dearest soulmate. Whatever you say.”

Her eyes roll, but she’s laughing and Tim is too. He doesn’t even mind it all that much when she gets him digging through another dusty box. Hard to mind anything when he can see the colour he’s brought to Sasha’s face. He peers over the paper to watch her she pushes those glasses up again.

Soulmates, yeah? Tim smiles to himself. Scratch that sixty-nine – he’d be happy with just the one. 

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided to take part in the wonderful "tim stoker appreciation week" as a bit of a writing challenge for myself! i've had an extreme case of writer's block over the past month, and i'm hoping that writing something short every day will help sort myself out. the magnus archives is filled with characters and stories i really love, so taking a deep dive into this world might help out!
> 
> for day one of tim "himbo" stoker week, i picked the "soulmates" prompt. call it canon-adjacent, if you will (i wish it was), and don't mind that i'm not over MAG162 (clearly).


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